


The Aftermath

by ponpiri



Category: Splatoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21573778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponpiri/pseuds/ponpiri
Summary: Many things were different after a hundred years. The world between Octarians and Inklings, now divided and full of prejudice. As odd and foreign a world it became to the man who had been alive to see it all happen, there still were remnants of the past that kept the Octarian leader on his toes.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	The Aftermath

There was never anything he could say when he visited this place. How empty and decayed it appeared and how it would continue to do so for years and years. This castle was once his home and now it was roped off and put on display for the Inklings to see. Like they created it, like it was their trophy. Something they could take their disinterested children to see on field trips for them to learn inaccurate history they didn’t care about. Like him, the castle remained detached to time. Trapped in a period of peace that seemed it would no longer return.

Of course, they didn’t bother to keep the rest of the city intact like this. From where he stood he could recall children running down cobble streets, or simple merchants passing through. He recalled walking down these streets to festivals. He recalled his mothers commanding presence watching over their town, never being too far to protect her home from strangers. He burned these memories into his mind, for without them there would be no way to tell they even existed.

His own being was bitter and wary. Any tourists knew instantly he wasn’t someone to be talked too. He adjusted his scarf to better conceal his face with his dark shaded glasses. Whatever was thought of him by anyone didn’t matter to him.

He marched onward, never breaking his stare at the palace. He halted when he reached the railing that discouraged visitors from disrupting the ancient structure. Below him, a plaque described the past of the castle. That was something new they added, he noted as he eyes fell upon it. What piece of history would they get wrong today?

But it isn’t its history. It’s its war story.

“ The Squidbeak Splatoon,  
led by Second Lieutenant Cuttlefish,  
visited grievous losses upon the forces of the enemy  
during the bitter siege of Arowana Castle.“

His stomach began to tie into knots as he gazed upon the picture that accompanied it. His eyes locked on to the Second Lieutenant, determined and desperate to win the battle. He felt worse as he looked upon the young Octarian he was trying to kill. It was him. It was him being beaten by someone he once considered his closest companion. No one would know the personal history between the Inkling and the Octoling, only that Craig had lead their side to victory. 

Not that Octavio had walked away from that battle with a broken spirit having to announce their surrender to the Inklings. Not the days he spent on end in their grasp until they could work out some place to put them. Not when he nearly strangled their leader to death when he announced that they had no more place on top and would have to leave or be punished. He shook the memories from his mind. If he thought about them too long, he’d just go back to stealing the Great Zapfish and reclaiming what was his. He had made so much progress. He couldn’t ruin the chance to wipe away the past because he couldn’t accept that times were changing. 

He didn’t bother to check if anyone was watching him as he stepped over the rails to go home. He doesn’t acknowledge the voices bringing attention to him as he got closer and closer. That’s all he wanted to do. He just wanted to go home. He forced himself inward through the ruin doors and made sure they shut tight before anyone would try to rip him out of there. Who were they to tell him that he couldn’t be here? They were the trespassers, not him.

Light did its best to seep into the dark halls. It does well to illuminate the condition that Arowana Castle was in. It was shattering for him to recalled how bright and regal it was, only know to be dull and murky with every inch of it falling apart. He could seem himself entertaining friends as a young adult and him racing down the halls as a child. A melancholy smile formed on his lips. He wouldn’t have time to see it all.

The floorboards creaked at his every step, almost as if it were welcoming back the young shogun. He could see old broken weapons remaining from the siege scattered on the ground mixed with stains in the carpet. Walls that were destroyed remained that way even now and rubble threatened him about every second. What was the point of preserving a place if you weren’t going to take care of it? To relish in sick amusement over what they took from the Octarians? Its almost as if the second Octavio left, they made plans to ensure that this would forever haunt him. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate already.

He froze when he encountered the complexion of a woman. Crisp and tattered the painting was but it remained unmistakable of who it was meant to be. A lump in his throat took hold and threatened to turn into a mess of hot tears. No matter how hard he tried to suppress them, a few managed to trickle down his face. It had been so long since he’d seen her face like this. It was a portrait of the former shogunate, it was his mother. He was glad he was alone, for he was sure someone would scold him for being so emotional at an old age. His head dipped in respect as he dropped before her, kneeling to give respect to someone who was no longer there to receive it. His heart ached to say something to her. 

“ I miss you, ” Was what emerged quietly, almost echoing around him. He could have a whole conversation with her if he wanted, but would she truly be proud of who he had become?

Minutes passed until he finally stood back up. He wiped the dust from his clothing and turned to search the halls again. His journey lead him to the one knew the best.

His room was exactly as he left it. Books in piles on the floor, messy bedding that he swore he would make along with drafts of songs he attempted to write. Out of all the unrecognizable places, this was the one thing that remained the same. There was a sigh of relief from General Takowasa, as if something had been lifted from him. This was his bedroom and they at least had the decency to read stuff alone. Delicately he picked up on of the papers. If he moved it any wrong way it was certain it might fall apart. He read over the notes and laughed at how different his style was now than a hundred years ago. He turned to journals that he had written, filled to the brim with notes and memories of his days during peace. He gathered all the things he didn’t have time to take with him into a small pile with a grin. At long last they were returned to him.

Something in his mind told him it was time to go. As if his time here today were up. Sure enough, the sound of security attempted to make their way through without breaking anything filled up air. He wanted so badly to tell them to go away and leave him be. He couldn’t. If he fought back, he’d set a bad name for himself with Inklings again. Same thing if he were caught. This wasn’t his place anymore, he had almost forgotten that.

He took one last look at the room that used to be his with his items in hand. He finally had the chance to tell his home good bye properly. He knew this place better than any Inkling ever could and he knew there we passages he could take to make it as if he was never there at all. He muttered his parting words in Octarian, before running off into the shadows.


End file.
